“I haven’t any use for that fellow,” he said. “I suppose the unpleasant story must be told sooner or later, so here goes. In the first place, Poincilit forgot that I understood Spanish, and I heard him yelping to the Chileans in the jolly-boat that if we took any more people on board we should be swamped. It was he who put the notion in their heads to cast off while you were lowering Miss Baring’s maid into my arms. I tried to forget that, as he was blue-white with fear, and some fellows are not responsible for their actions when their liver melts. But I can never forget his action on the island. Yesterday morning I was just in time to stop him and four others from sneaking off in the life-boat with all our provisions.”
Courtenay’s face hardened too.
“Necessity may have no laws,” said he; “but I fancy I should have found a code to meet his case.”
“I have organized a Vigilance Committee in my time, and its articles kind of fitted in,” was the American’s quiet reply. “That is why I have a few recent knife-cuts distributed about my skin; I began to shoot and we were two short on the muster roll next day. De Poincilit ran, and fell on his knees. So did a skunk of an Italian, and I did not want to waste cartridges. They were tied back to back until we sailed to-day.”
“And the fifth?”
“The fifth was a woman.”
“Huh!” Boyle reached out for a bottle of wine and refilled his glass. For a little while there was silence. Then Courtenay muttered:
“Poor devil of a Count! ‘She gave me of the tree and I did eat.’ Did he blame the woman?”
“Well, yes. But it was a mean business, any how.”
“Better sponge it off the slate, eh?”